


The Face Of Trust

by sserpente



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Thor: The Dark World Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9213029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sserpente/pseuds/sserpente
Summary: When Loki dies on Svartalfheim, your world breaks apart, for you have loved him dearly without him ever knowing. Mourning, you do not leave your chambers for weeks until King Odin decides to pay you a visit, intending to discover the reason for your grief. And with the God of Mischief gone, you can, after all, finally admit to your feelings... right?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story, naturally, starts off after Loki fakes his death in “Thor: The Dark World”. You may or may not guess the rest while reading. Enjoy!

It had all started when Jane had dragged you into it two years ago. This one night, where she had randomly hit a certain God of Thunder with her car. From then on, all hell had broken lose. You had become an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D, you had been fired, you had done private and illegal research for your heartbroken friend and then, you had fallen in love with Loki, the God of Mischief.

It was hard to explain how exactly you had ended up on Asgard but for some strange reasons, Odin had agreed on letting you stay shortly after Loki had been banished to a lonely cell in the dungeons, your life honourably saved by Thor and, much to the Allfather’s disapproval, at first brought here to heal. Your orders, of course, had been clear–stay _away_ from him. No one was to talk to the prisoner and no one was to spend time with him but the mute guards making sure he did not find a way to escape.

Whatever Loki thought of you, you did not know. Maybe he hated you, maybe he thought you a puny and helpless little mortal who had merely ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time. No matter how much you had tried to show him that you didn’t hold a grudge against him, that you didn’t judge him, even that you _liked_ him, the Trickster never seemed to notice.

You had managed to have civilised conversations with him once or twice but apart from that, it seemed like you were as unimportant to him as a sack of rice dropping on Vanaheim and still, you kept paying him secret visits.

Befriending one of the guards had been easier than you had thought. He pretended not to see you sneaking in and out and in return, you promised not to bust him should Odin ever find out about your nightly adventures. After that, it had started with bringing him books he occasionally asked for, sneaking in food and delicious wine for him to consume when nobody else noticed. And you  had stayed, sometimes for hours, just to talk to the God of Mischief. You had listened to what he had to say, you had nodded comprehendingly when he had justified his actions on Midgard but no matter how hard you tried, you remained an unessential human, your life compared to his shorter than a heartbeat.

* * *

It was three words that destroyed you in the end of it, that ripped your life apart.

“ _He is dead._ ” Thor’s voice was severe, a grieved expression on his face as he spoke and the sound echoing through the throne room. Odin remained silent. He lifted his chin, studying your reaction as your lips parted, oxygen streaming through your windpipe without you noticing.

 _No, not here. You_ couldn’t ever let the Allfather know you had loved the one man who had caused so much destruction and death, nor could you let Thor find out.

So you simply nodded bravely as your fists clenched, your breath unsteady when you excused yourself and then quickly hurried to your chambers.

Tears flooded your eyes as you rushed through the impressive hallways of Asgard’s palace, worsening your sight and almost having you trip.

Loki. Dead. How was this possible? He was the God of Mischief, the God of Lies, the _Trickster_. He couldn’t just be… dead, now could he? He was way too smart to be murdered like this and yet… it had happened. He was gone, wiped from existence. Never again would you get to see his mischievous smirk, his graceful tread and his charming and soothing voice that had raved about ruling and freedom.

The pain in your chest was unbearable, stung like thousands of glowing daggers stabbing you from the inside out. When you had reached your  chambers, she you not know, neither did you notice how you fell on her bed and buried your face in your pillow before the first, heart-breaking scream escaped your lips, your tears wetting your pillow and your piteous sobbing almost choking you.

Muffled by the silken fabric of your bed sheets, hardly anyone was able to hear you. If they had, they could have assumed you were being tortured to death. In a way, you were.

* * *

You didn’t leave your chambers for a week, allowing no one to come inside other than the worried maids bringing you food every day so you wouldn’t starve to death. They kept their gazes down in a respectful manner when you told them you were sick and not to be disturbed by anyone else, realising that even if they knew why you were mourning, they had no right to speak up anyway. They hadn’t known Loki, after all, not really. But… had you? Had you known the man you had secretly visited in his prison cell day after day? _Yes_. You nodded to herself, eager to convince your conscious. You had.

Loki had been many things but most of all, he would always remain misunderstood. They were all fools for not noticing, too blind to see the greatness of this capable God.

A sudden knock on the door startled you. Rising from the bed, you bit her lower lip and blinked, testing whether your eyes were too swollen to open the door for anyone. However, after all that crying it seemed like you were as dry as the desert, with no more tears to shed. You were grieving silently now, with hardly  ever any words leaving your lips.

No one had dared to bother you throughout the last couple of days, so why now? And what did they want? Sighing in an attempt to gain some strength, you forced your throat to call the person inside. When you spotted Odin marching towards you with a rather stern expression, you shifted uncomfortably on the silken bed sheets. _Anyone,_ you thought to yourself. _Anyone but him, anyone but the man who had hurt Loki the most._

“Is it your alleged sickness or something else that keeps you hidden in these chambers?” His voice was surprisingly calm and just for a brief moment, you wondered to what you’d possibly owe the honour to have the Allfather visit you personally. Your hatred for the man was tangible, it ached in your chest when you looked at his armoured figure. He was the man who had banished Loki to a cell. The man who had lied to him all his life, promising him what he ought to be and then abandoned him for the actions _he_ himself had driven him to commit.

You were unsure of what to answer; Odin wasn’t stupid, after all.

“I don’t feel well, my liege. I would appreciate solitude.” You began, lying back again to face the window in your room rather than the bearded face of the king of Asgard.

“As you are a citizen in my palace, my curiosity gets the better of me, child. I wish to know what has you suffering.” Sitting down quietly in the chair next to your bed, he awaited your response.

His curiosity. As if he truly cared about whether you suffered or not. To him, you were but a dumb mortal, after all. Fists clenched, you attempted to swallow your anger that seemed to grow like weed in your heart, clouding the pain Loki’s death had left in that invisible hole in your chest.

“It is none of your business!” You spat through gritted teeth, feeling new tears gathering in your eyes. They soon began rolling down your cheeks, the hot salt water reddening your face again as you cried silently, hoping the Allfather would not notice.

“I am the king of Asgard, _everything_ occurring here is my business. I am mighty but I cannot lay my eyes upon all of my people, for even my power has its ends. I want to know. Now.”

“Loki could have, you know.” The words had escaped your lips before you could stop them. Innocent and casual, they seemed like they were unimportant, all but a mindless thought. But they were not. And the Allfather knew that all too well.

“Loki? You dare compare me to my deceased son? Now, the next thing you will tell me is that the reason for your pitiful state is grief?”

This time you said nothing.

“It is? You mourn for Loki?” Odin sat up straight, his sceptre clenched tightly as he eyed you suspiciously.

All was lost now. You might as well just jump in at the deep end.

“I do.” You replied as forceful as you could muster, yet you still didn’t turn to face him. “Whatever he has done to wrong you or Midgard or anyone else, he did _not_ deserve to die.” More tears were shed. You blinked as to clear your sight a little.

“You didn’t even understand him.” You continued. “What he wanted. What he felt. What he thought. You judged what you saw without ever giving him a proper chance to prove himself. You’ve lied to him his whole life and then blamed him for his actions, the ones _you_ asked for.

“Frigga was the only one who knew his heart and I didn’t even get to know her personally. But I know she cared for him, she knew that he isn’t that heartless monster you want him to be. He might have done terrible things but so have you.”

It was like you were talking to a wall as you stifled a sob. Odin didn’t react to your words at all, for all he said was—

“And where is that concern coming from? This interest in a criminal? How would you, a mortal, of all people have any idea about the severity of these words you speak? How would _you_ be able to understand Loki’s tainted heart?” He raised his voice, the sound unpleasantly vibrating through the room.

“I loved him.” You suddenly whispered, barely audible as you were shook by yet another silent sob.

“What?” Surprised and almost shocked, the Allfather’s voice was equally quiet.

“I loved Loki. And I still do. Loving him is almost as painful as knowing that he will never come back, that he is merely a powerful memory that will never go away. I miss him. Of course…” You attempted a sarcastic laugh, failed pathetically. “He didn’t ever bother to look at me twice. Why would he? A man like him, a _God_ with all his incredible abilities… he’s out of my league, oh, I know that he would have never cast his eyes on a _puny mortal_. Still… sometimes I had hope. Hope that maybe one day, he would realise he had a friend in me. I tried everything possible but it was never good enough for him. I wonder if he even knew my name but at some point, all I wanted was to support him. I didn’t even care whether he would ever like me back, let alone love me. Loki was so misunderstood.”

Your monologue slowly began to rip your nerves apart. Tears were streaming down your cheeks like waterfalls now and you was certain Odin was able to tell that you were crying. It was getting hard to talk, for the now loud sobs shaking you stopped you from doing so.

“He of all people… who had always been damned to play the second fiddle, who had had to live in his _glorious_ brother’s shadow for so long… he who had found out his race was what Asgardians thought of as ruthless monsters… he deserved someone to love him. Someone to care for him and support him, no matter what decision he made. Someone who would always  have been there for him, somebody he could trust. I don’t care whether I should or could have been that person but I wished he would have found love or at least a true friend. And he deserved so much more.” Another pathetic excuse for a scornful laugh escaped your lips. “And I’m telling _you_. Of all people, I am telling the _Allfather_ , the one person in the universe who learned to despise his own son for what he is the most.”

Odin would have you killed. If anything, for all you had just said, you would be confined to the dungeons. Much to your surprise, however, nothing alike happened. The Allfather rose from the chair, ignoring how you were still not looking him in the eye. You could feel his scrutinising glance on your back as you tried to breathe calmly again.

“I see.” He left the room without another word.

* * *

Three more days had passed since your incident with the king of Asgard. You still refused to leave your room, especially after your not so graceful confession. The pain Loki’s death caused you was nowhere near fading and your energy was slowly dripping from you like spilled wine from a once white table cloth, pooling to the ground rather disgustingly.

No one else had entered your room but the maids, although you hadn’t touched your food ever since Odin had left. You weren’t hungry, you had no appetite and you certainly did not make use of anyone telling you you _needed_ sustenance.

It was quite late in the afternoon when you lay down on the bed to rest, the lack of food taking its toll on you despite your claiming and trying to convince yourself that you were fine. Naturally, you were far from fine ever since Loki had died. It was like a piece of you had been ripped away and crushed, like someone had forcefully taken your leg, damning you to move in a wheelchair from for the rest of your life.

Your eyes were forced shut, your mind praying your body not to shed tears tonight when you slept, your exhausted body praying to your mind to gift you a dreamless night without Loki’s face in front of you, his arms embracing you or his cool hands taking yours so gently you feared it wasn’t even the real God of Mischief you kept dreaming of. But it was. There was no doubt about that.

You froze instantly when you suddenly felt a hand touching your shoulder. Who was this? A guard who was at last to take you to the gallows, back to Midgard or to prison? Or perhaps Thor, whatever reason could bring him to your chambers, appearing unannounced and boldly approaching your half-sleeping form in bed?

Lightly at first, it soon grabbed you gently but forcefully to spin you around and when it did, your heart skipped a beat. It was Loki.

* * *

He looked breath-taking, with his raven black hair, his blue eyes that seemed to promise you the secrets of all of the nine realms, his elegant hands and long fingers, his flawless features and his very own armour–except for the Allfather’s sceptre in his right hand, the left still resting on your shoulder.

Surely, you were dreaming. Hallucinating, even, for it felt so real. His touch, his presence, the sheer feeling of him standing right next to you. Your unconscious couldn’t possibly make this up in your dreams. You must have gone crazy.

“Loki” You whispered, your voice breathless and inaudible for any other human being.

Unlike usual, the God of Mischief’s face wasn’t decorated with his superior and murky smirk, his eyes did not glisten with mockery and mischief but instead, he seemed truly moved. He was showing emotion, real feelings you knew he had been hiding for so long, for he was too proud to show the universe his grief, the sadness that had been surging within him for so many years.

He said nothing at first, letting you make the first move and sit up properly, his body only mere inches from yours.

“Please tell me you’re real…” Your lower lip was shaking, your eyes filling up with tears like so often the last days. The burning sensation you felt when the salty water worsened yur sight was nothing compared to the relief spreading in your entire body, filling you from head to toe.

“I am.” He replied quietly, sending a shiver down your spine as he spoke. His voice. His soothing, beautiful, graceful voice, so manipulative and calming at the same time. It was when you realised that it was indeed no hallucination and certainly no very vivid dream. Loki was here. He _lived._

A heart-wrenching sob escaped your throat as you threw herself in his arms, holding on to him as if he were a piece of wood in a roaring sea compelled by a terrible thunderstorm. As for now, you did not care how you would just dare to hug him and initiate some form of a close relationship, heavy with care and trust.

Then, however, much to your surprise, you suddenly felt him embracing you, his cool hands stroking your back as if he were to calm you after a horrible nightmare.

“You _live_ …” You murmured over and over again, not quite believing your own words. Your sad tears had turned into tears of joy, wetting Loki’s impressive green, gold and black armour as he pressed you close against his body, dropping the sceptre onto the bed.

You didn’t know for how long you had been crying in his arms and for how long he had allowed you to hug him silently, though when you finally dared to pull away and look him in his magnificent blue eyes, your own swollen from millions of tears, you brought her hands to his cheeks, cupping them while simultaneously stifling another sob.

“How are you alive again? What happened?” You whispered out of breath, speaking as if you were to witness a miracle. In some way, you were.

“I was never dead.”

“But Thor, he said you died in his arms and…” There was no need for you to say more, for you immediately came to understand what must have happened. Loki was a master of illusions. He had fooled them all once more.

A mischievous, albeit weak smirk appeared on his gorgeous lips, that mysterious smirk you had learned to love so much.

Without any forewarning, you leaned back and raised your hand. Only the fraction of a second later, it connected with his right cheek, forcing his head aside. Your palm stung as you rubbed it against your thigh, watching how Loki’s smirk faded as fast as it had emerged when you did. Almost startled, he sought out your gaze, a questioning sparkling in his blue eyes.

“How could you do this to me?!” You shrieked, your voice echoing through the room like sharpened daggers stabbing everything in their sight.

“I thought you were dead! _Dead_ , Loki! I mourned for so long, believing I would never see you again!”

“I know.” It was all he said in response. His words almost sounded guilty.

“How? How would you know what I felt? And how has Odin not noticed you are still here, wandering through the castle?”

“Odin is gone.”

“What…” You paused, startled.  “What do you mean, gone?”

“He has been ever since Thor returned from Svartalfheim.” The Trickster explained, his hand reaching forward to touch your cheek. Frowning at his own thoughts, he awaited your response, curious whether you would understand without him enlightening you. _Had you always had such beautiful cheekbones?_

Eyes widening, your lips parted, your glance catching a glimpse of Odin’s sceptre on your bed. It was then you realised. It had been Loki all along.

“You heard it. You heard everything.” You whispered shocked, unable to believe your own words yet again. All the grief you had spat at Odin, your rage and your confession… telling him you _loved_ Loki… you had told the God of Mischief himself?

He nodded as he sat down on the bed, allowing you to inch closer and straddle him, your petite hands playing with his soft raven hair. All rivalry and royal positions were forgotten for now. He was a man, you were a woman, drawn to each other, nothing more and nothing less.

“Did you mean it?” He suddenly asked. You almost flinched. He sounded so unlike himself, so unsure, innocent and nearly introverted. Without a second thought, you found herself nodding mutely.

“Every single word. Loki… why would you… I don’t know what your plan is and how many people know that you are still alive and—“

“No one does. No one except you. Not yet.” He interrupted calmly, his cool digits stroking your cheekbones once more. Never before had he been so affectionate. Something had changed.

“But why? Why would you show yourself to me, why would you trust me?” Your voice sounded desperate, devastated even. There was so much you did not understand, so much you needed to ask. There were, however, no words that could explain your tainted feelings. You were hurt, so broken. After days of crying and mourning, the man you loved so dearly was right in front of you, caressing you in the most tender way you had never thought possible.

“What you believed to have said to Odin was daring. You risked your life when you unburdened yourself to him. He would have executed you, banished you or thrown you into prison for your words at the very least. It was when I knew that I could trust you with this. After you talked to me that very day in your chambers, it seemed like your pain had devolved upon me. I felt your grief and I felt your heart aching until I could not bear it anymore. And I decided I had to relieve you.”

You realised they were even more tears only when they ran over your reddened cheeks and Loki’s long fingers. Without another word that needed to be said, not for now, you finally brought up the courage to lean forward and press your lips against his.

It was a reserved and modest kiss and yet, it expressed so much. The connection emerging like invisible but powerful strings of magic between you was bewildering.

You did not know what the future held, nor did you have to. As Asgard’s now rightful king and with Odin gone, Loki had everything he had ever wanted at his feet. And although he was so vulnerable and broken as you were in this very moment, you had never admired his strength, his power and his perfidy more. Maybe his life had finally taken a turn to the better.

You could not be more contented.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this in mind for a long while already and I literally cried when I was writing it. My love for this fictional character is beyond healthy. I regret nothing and I blame Tom Hiddleston.
> 
> Catch me up on my Tumblr! @sserpente


End file.
